A Darker Destiny: Dark Luke Drabbles
by arikylo
Summary: Various one-shots in which Luke has fallen to the Dark Side and is no longer the kind-hearted hero that his friends know and love.
1. Hideout

Han stepped cautiously into the cave, wondering if he had gotten lost somewhere along the way. This didn't look like a place where Luke would hide out, but then again it was cool and sheltered from the harsh Tatooine suns outside. Han did a double check of the directions he had been given. He was sure he had followed them correctly, so this must be the place.

Nevertheless, he pulled out his blaster and proceeded with caution.

Han rounded a sharp bend and there, only a couple of metres away from him, was Luke, wrapped in a long black cloak and seated with his back turned to Han.

"Luke!" Han called, relief washing over him.

But then suddenly he was surrounded, blaster rifles pointed at him from all directions. Han dropped his blaster in an instant, knowing better than to go up against a small squadron of stormtroopers.

"Luke?" he whispered cautiously, his hands raised above his head. The kid hadn't even moved. Was he okay? Was he hurt?

Luke gave a short laugh and Han frowned, failing to see what was funny.

"You pretend to care for no one, Han, but your compassion is your downfall." Luke's words echoed around the cave walls and Han froze. The kid's voice wasn't normal. It was dark and cold and had a vicious bite to it. What the hell was going on?

Han watched silently as Luke got up and turned around to face him. And it was then that Han realised something was terribly wrong here. Luke was dressed from head to foot in black and on his chest was an Imperial military insignia. But that wasn't the worst of it. Luke's usually soft eyes and kind smile were nowhere in sight, replaced instead by a cold, crystalline stare and a wicked smirk.

"Wha..." Han's voice faltered as his brain failed him.

"This was all too easy," Luke said quietly as he approached Han, hands behind his back and a feral grin on his face. "You disappoint me, Han. I thought you'd be harder to catch than this."

"What the hell happened to you?" Han asked, his voice now fully functional again. Luke had been gone for many months now and it had taken Han so long to track him down. He had been searching for his lost friend but what he had found was a monster.

"A monster?" Luke scoffed and Han was taken aback at the clear implication that Luke had been reading his mind. "That's a little harsh now, don't you think?"

"I don't know," Han grit out. "You tell me. What exactly _have_ you become, _Skywalker_?"

Luke's eyes flashed at the use of his last name, although Han couldn't tell whether the kid was affronted or pleased.

"Well, I'm not exactly a kid anymore, Han," Luke replied coolly. "So, I think you should stop calling me that."

"Stay out of my head!" Han growled. His heart was racing now and he was beginning to become angry. At first he had thought that maybe it was all an act, but now... Well, one thing was for certain: Luke was no longer the man he had once known. His friend, it seemed, was long gone, replaced by this... _thing_.

"Was it Vader?" Han asked quietly, his anger simmering just below the surface. "Is he the one that did this to you?"

"Vader didn't do anything to me, Han," Luke replied casually, staring at Han with his cold, blue eyes that were once so warm and welcoming. "Although he did _offer_ me something."

"And what was that?" Han felt sick. His question had hidden another and Luke had just answered both of them. Luke was loyal to Vader now - loyal to the Empire. Of course, the Imperial insignia had implied that, but Han had just had to check.

"Power," Luke said simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

Han scoffed. "Is that all it took?" he asked incredulously, eyebrows raised. "Is that all it took for you to betray the Alliance and defect to the Empire? _Power_? I had so much more faith in you, Luke. You could have done so much!"

"Oh, but I will," Luke whispered, stepping closer to Han, who forced himself not to step back. "With my new found power I will rule the galaxy!"

Han gave a sad, shaky laugh. His anger had dissipated now and had instead been replaced with a sad sense of finality. "We were friends, Luke," he whispered softly. "What happened to that? I trusted you."

Luke's eyes flickered for a second as he scanned Han's face. Then he stepped back and his eyes were wide. "But don't you see, Han? I'm doing this for you - for all of you! For the Alliance. For you. For Leia. I will restore peace and freedom to the galaxy!"

"Listen to yourself, Luke," Han replied sadly. "Don't you see who you've become? You're like Vader: power hungry and blinded by the Dark Side. You may think you're doing the right thing, but you'll probably end up destroying us all in your attempt to save us."

"Well, it would be fitting, wouldn't it?" Luke snapped harshly. "To liken me to Vader. I am his son, after all."

Of all the things that Han had been expecting, that had definitely not been on the list. This day was getting wilder by the second and Han was struggling to keep up.

"His son?" he repeated hoarsely.

"Yes. Is that so hard to believe?"

Han gave Luke a once over, scanning him from messy blond hair to shiny black boots. Then he looked Luke straight in the eyes. "Not anymore," he said. And it was true. Luke looked every part the son of Vader, from the long black cloak to the stiff, rigid way that he held himself.

Luke smirked and motioned to the stormtroopers. "Take him away."

Han stared at Luke sadly as his hands were bound and he was dragged from the cave.

"You won't win this, Skywalker," he called out as Luke followed at a distance.

Luke's eyes glinted with malice and his mouth curved in a wicked grin.

"Just watch me."


	2. Deserted Destroyer

The crimson lightsaber ignited with a _snap-hiss_ and Leia bolted. It would be suicide to go up against a Sith armed with nothing but a blaster with a severely depleted power supply. She sprinted through the blast doors and down the shiny corridor, her braided hair flying out behind her as she ran.

"You can't run from me, _Leia_," came the voice of the Sith warrior, echoing off the walls, hissing and twisting the tones of his voice. The way he said her name made her shiver - a cold, fear-driven chill all the way down her spine. She didn't look back.

Twisting and turning through the empty corridors of the deserted Imperial Star Destroyer, Leia continued to run at a break-neck pace, although her breath was beginning to heave with strain. She rounded a corner and slammed full on into a wall.

Leia staggered back, nursing her left wrist which had connected with the wall with a sickening crack. Gritting her teeth and shaking her head, Leia silently cursed her stupidity for letting her fear drive her. It had resulted in her taking a wrong turn somewhere down the line.

With a sense of urgency she turned on her heel and came back the way she had come, only this time to run full on into the Sith warrior. Her shoved her away from him, hard, and she landed roughly on her left wrist. A blazing white pain shot through her arm and she screamed.

"Get up," growled the Sith.

Leia's breath was heavy and blood trickled from her lip as she responded, "What do you want from me?"

"Get up," the Sith commanded again, although this time it was in a whisper, sharp, hissing and full of menace.

Leia pushed herself up slowly using her undamaged right hand, not wanting to test the Sith's patience too much. She tried to catch a glimpse of his face under the hood, but it was cast too deep in shadow. Her right leg was painful to stand on but she refused to show any more fear in front of the warrior.

"Who are you?" she asked as she steadied herself.

"That is no concern of yours," the Sith whispered again. "Follow me."

He turned around and started heading back the way they had come, his black cloak billowing behind him.

Now was her chance.

Leia whipped her blaster out of its holster and fired two shots at the Sith who barely had time to react, although his force-enhanced senses had obviously given him a warning; spinning around quickly, he ignited his lightsaber and deflected the bolts with grace. Leia ducked quickly for cover as the bolts flew back at her, one sizzling dangerously close to her ear, and as she did so, her blaster was wrenched from her grasp.

Leia righted herself and turned to shoot a glare at the warrior - one which was returned ten-fold from a now unhooded Sith - but her glare faltered the moment she laid eyes on his face... his tanned skin... his sandy blond hair...

She stuttered, her mind going completely blank, her body numb.

No.

It wasn't possible.

"Luke?" she finally managed to get out, although it was barely a whisper.

Luke stared back, his normally warm blue eyes now cold and penetrating. His lips parted in a vicious smirk.

"Surprised to see me, _sister_?"

Leia blinked.

"Sister?" she repeated, not comprehending.

"All will be made clear in time," whispered Luke, approaching her slowly.

Leia backed away, only to find herself pressed up against a wall. Luke's face neared hers, his blue eyes glittering dangerously close.

"What happened to you?" Leia began to ask - but she was stopped short as Luke gently brought his fingertips to her temples.

And she was plunged into darkness.


	3. The Blood On Your Hands

"I didn't do it! Why don't you believe me?!"

"Because you're not yourself, kid. And you haven't been in a long time."

Luke took a step back, eyes wide and glittering.

"But, Han, you don't honestly think that I...?"

"I don't know," Han snapped. "I don't know, Luke! I want to believe you—truly, I do—but under the circumstances..."

"What?" Luke asked, his voice quiet.

"I just... can't," Han replied, turning away at the look on Luke's face. He rubbed at his forehead and then ran his hand through his hair. "You should leave before the authorities arrive."

"And what about you?" Luke asked, his voice now stony cold.

Han gave a short, humourless laugh. "Don't worry about me, kid. I'll be outta here quicker than the Falcon can make the jump to hyperspace."

"Are you gonna tell them it was me?"

"So, it _was_ you!" Han said, spinning around and raising his eyebrows at the blond.

Luke gave an indignant glare. "You know what I mean, Han."

Han gritted his teeth, not really wanting to answer the question just yet.

"Where have you been these past few months? Answer me that, Luke, and I'll reconsider your situation."

"Are you going to turn me in or not?" Luke growled. Han felt suddenly nervous and he didn't know why.

"What? You gonna stop me?" he asked.

"If I must," Luke replied lowly, taking a step forward.

Han stopped himself from taking a step back, but he couldn't prevent the concerned frown that crossed his face. The air was suddenly colder and Luke's eyes glittered dangerously.

"Luke—" Han started, but he was cut off suddenly as an invisible force clamped down around his throat. He reflexively reached for his neck and tried to pry the mystical fingers off.

"Luke, stop!" he sputtered, somehow knowing that it was his friend who was doing this, even though the blond stood a good couple of metres away. But Luke showed no intentions of letting go. His eyes glinted wickedly with malice and there was a slight curve to his lips.

"S... Stop! Please!" Han choked out, his lungs burning from air deprivation and his vision blurring dangerously.

Then suddenly the pressure was gone and Han collapsed to the ground on all fours, heaving in the cold night air. The burning sensation resided quickly, but a bitter, sickening feeling lingered. But it wasn't from the Force choke...

Han turned an icy glare on Luke.

"It _was_ you, wasn't it?" he hissed, as he staggered up off the ground. "You killed them."

And without waiting for Luke's answer, Han whipped his blaster out of its holster and pointed it at his friend—only, he would have if the blaster hadn't been wrenched from his grasp the second he got hold of the grip. Han watched his weapon soar to the side and land in the gutter with wide eyes. Then he turned his gaze on Luke.

"No, Han," Luke whispered, stepping forward slowly. His normally warm, blue eyes were now icy cold and his face was creased in a dark glare. "I didn't kill them."

Han forced himself not to take a step back as Luke loomed dangerously close. He clenched his jaw as his eyes skimmed over the blond's black covered body... over his bloodstained hands... He felt physically sick—and not because of the blood.

Luke stopped inches from Han's chest, his blue eyes flitting over his face. Then, he whispered, "You did."

"Wha—" Han started off, shocked, but he was cut off as Luke suddenly gripped his wrists. A white hot, burning sensation ripped up his arms and through his body like wildfire. Han clamped his eyes shut and gritted his teeth at the pain. Black spots painted his vision as he wrenched his hands free of Luke's grip.

Stumbling back a few steps, Han looked down at his tingling, blood soaked hands… Wait a second. Blood soaked? He looked up at Luke in shock and his eyes widened even further as he noticed Luke's now clean hands.

"What did you—" Han whispered, but he was cut off yet again, although this time it wasn't Luke who had interrupted him. Han twirled around frantically as a loud siren went off somewhere in the distance. He looked back at Luke.

Luke raised his eyebrows. "I'd run if I were you," he said, a wicked smirk on his face.

Han gaped, his mind struggling to process his current situation. He was feeling everything right now—anger, shock, fear—but together the emotions blurred into a numb sort of buzzing and he was stuck in a state of wordless bewilderment. He glanced down at his bloodied hands again and then looked back towards the city where he could now see the rapidly approaching lights of the police cruisers.

He turned back to look at Luke. Only, Luke wasn't there any more.

Han spun around wildly, scanning the alleyway for any signs of the blond, but the street was deserted. He was alone. _But not for much longer_, he reminded himself grimly. His pulse was pounding loudly behind his ears and his breath was shallow as he tossed up the possibilities. Hand himself over or run. Let Luke frame him for the murder of thirty innocents or escape and get the bastard back.

The police cruisers were drawing dangerously close now, their sirens reaching an ear-splitting wail. Han took a step back.

And ran.


End file.
